


You Don't Know Me

by JuneJulySeptember



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Camping, Class Trip, Cultural Differences, Emotional Baggage, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Fun With Quirks, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, OC character - Freeform, POV Multiple, Pairings are gonna be all over the place, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Quirk Dynamics, Romance on the side, Slow Burn, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuneJulySeptember/pseuds/JuneJulySeptember
Summary: After everything 3-A has been through, Nedzu decides in order to graduate, a psychological evaluation is necessary from one of All Might’s old acquaintances. An American.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyaKtheDorkLord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyaKtheDorkLord/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885707) by [AlyaKtheDorkLord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyaKtheDorkLord/pseuds/AlyaKtheDorkLord). 

> Huge shout out to AlyaK! Hope you like this!

January 3rd, U.A. Final Semester, Day 1

* * *

BAKUGOU

Everyone’s just as yappy and excitable as ever. Bakugo huffs, slouching further in his seat as the wall of sound buffets around him. They always get like this on the first day back. Like it’s their first fucking time coming to school or something. A thrum of energy radiates from the classroom along with the chatter making it feel like the epicenter of one of Bakugo’s explosions.

Shitty hair hangs off of him as usual. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other, _shit_. Bakugo rolls his shoulders, giving a halfhearted attempt to throw off the offensive appendage. The guy is so clingy. They worked out together a shit ton over the winter break. That’s _enough_.

“Welcome back.” Aizawa says shortly as he walks in. Same black uniform, same tired eyes even after the break. Bakugo had him labeled as an insomniac week one and only later learned that Aizawa doesn’t have any sleeping issues—he has delegation issues. Often working school nights as an underground pro, not because he needs to, but because he wants to. “I’m sure you’ve all looked at the syllabus—”

Glasses immediately shoots to his feet, “Sensei! We have been discussing several possible gift options to present to the new teacher coming from America and we would like your input on which would be most appropriate, sir!”

“That can wait until the end of the day, I think.” Aizawa says and Iida shuts up and sits down. Bakugou smirks. “To start off the semester, your new instructor has requested a rather unorthodox introduction.” Aizawa’s tone is even and droning and it’s impossible to detect how he feels about this new teacher or their methods. “Since you don’t know her quirk and she is a foreigner and relatively unfamiliar with yours, this morning is going to be wholly devoted to a combat simulation, with your new teacher as a new and completely unknown villain.”

Aizawa goes on to explain more but Bakugo is already ten steps ahead. This is _perfect_. They don’t know anything about this new mystery teacher, just like they wont always know much about new villains they face in the real world. It’s the perfect opportunity to test their reaction time in a controlled environment. Even better if she gives them the chance to come at her one at a time and doesn’t hold back.

Why hasn’t anyone done this before? Aizawa had said she didn’t know their powers either. That has the potential to put this hero at a serious disadvantage. Surely she has access to all of their files. Why not just look? Why is she attempting to kick their Asses without even the base knowledge of their quirks? That’s either a lot of self-confidence or she’s got some unexpected scheme up her sleeve. Probably a scheme—knowing UA. Bakugou frowns, considering, analyzing... only there's not much to analyze yet, not until they actually get a look at this chick.

“The exercise will start in training ground G. It’ll be a combination of teamwork scenarios and one-on-one so be prepared to be isolated as well as collaborate at a moments notice. Go change into your uniforms and meet there in fifteen.” Aizawa finishes and leaves the room just as it erupts in excited chattering again.

“A she! That’s more information then he gave us before but still not much. I guess now we know why the teachers were all being so secretive about her identity. This exercise is gonna be intense!” Kirishima flashes his shark teeth as everyone packs up their bags.

Bakugo grunts, his own excitement crowded out of usable mental space by contemplation.

As they file out of the classroom Roundface attempts to get Deku’s attention but as usual he’s preoccupied, hand on chin, eyes down and running his mouth a mile a minute and doesn’t even hear her.

“Oi, Deku!” Bakugou voice chops through the nerds chatter and his head jumps up, blinking at Bakugou. “Think you know who it is?”

Green eyes blink away as Deku shakes his head, body practically vibrating with suppressed excitement. “There’s just no way to tell until we get a closer look at her. Even then, I’m not sure I’ll be able to recognize her by costume alone. There are just too many Pro’s in the US and they change rankings so often I don’t know many past the top twenty.”

Others chime in but with an angry _tisk_, Bakugou tunes out of the conversation.

Fucking Deku, useless as always. Bakugo already knew that. America’s Pro Hero rankings were ridiculous, with the top slots changing on a monthly base instead of the more normal, infrequent yearly changes of most countries. Anyone’s guess as to why: the large population size, the ethnic diversity, the unique types of crime that seem to only occur in the US.

Whatever the case, the stats change too goddamn often to keep proper track of. Bakugou tries to follow at least the top ten but that’s probably not going to help him much here.

The boys and girls split at an intersection and head to the respective locker rooms.

Time to get in the zone.

* * *

CORINA

Cori bounces around from foot to foot, loving the feel of her new Hero armor, lightweight and ninja sleek, as she waits for the go-ahead from All Might. Excitement bubbles up in her belly like a carbonated drink and she checks her watch again. She’s wanted to do this before at other schools but U.A. is the first to humor her like this. Though honestly, it’s not that crazy of an exercise. In fact, it’s rather ingenious if she doesn’t say so herself. It’s the perfect way to assess how well a student can interact with and _react _to unknown threats in the real world.

The best part is, she’s been given free reign of the entire school! That means potential loss of life for the ‘Heroes’ and all sorts of potential hostage situations for her. More destructive quirks will also have to worry about structural and property damage so she'll likely be able to see some of the more subtle quirk users taking the lead. It’s more realistic than any other training scenario she can think of.

Cori presses a finger to the piece in her ear. “All Might, how we lookin’?”

“Everyone’s almost in place. There are a few stragglers on the way to the girl’s locker room. They’re on their phones.”

Aiwzwa’s gravelly voice chimes in over the intercom. “Googling _you_ no doubt.” There’s false reproof in his tone. Cori can tell he’s pleased with his student’s ingenuity.

“I’ll hit them first.” Cori grins, crouches, ready to spring. “All Might, lead the way.”

* * *

URARAKA

“It’s not much but this is better than nothing.” Momo comments quietly almost to herself as they slowly follow behind their classmates, both frantically scrolling.

Uraraka doesn’t look up from her phone. “I can’t believe how many female Pro’s are in the top fifty in America right now! It’s over half!”

“Yes that country does seem to produce more—” Her voice cuts off abruptly and Uraraka looks up in time to see a mesh like cloth wrap around Momo’s entire face and yank her head back.

Momo immediately twists but strong black clothed arms encase her, quickly attempting to wrap the other girl’s wrists in the same dark material. With a strangled gasp, Uraraka lunges forward, body moving before her mind can fully comprehend what she’s seeing.

The figure attacking Momo is clothed from head to foot in a black armored bodysuit. Dark burnished plates interlock seamlessly over high impact areas on the torso, knees and elbows with a utility belt at the waist. With the androgynous almost bulky cut of the suit and a full facial mask, it’s impossible to identify their new teacher. Yet for some reason, Uraraka instinctually understands that’s who this is.

Honestly at this point, it’s practically the school’s M.O. to see how class A reacts to logical ruses and to catch them off guard without their suits like this _before_ the test was even supposed to start. It definitely tracks with past behaviors. Not to mention that over the years, security has gotten so insane at UA (sensors and cameras in almost every public space), it's highly unlikely this is a villain. To top it off, when the intruder strikes, the blows aren’t aimed to break, only incapacitate poor Momo as she thrashes around in the other woman’s grip.

Logically Uraraka knows this, yet she still can't help the way her adrenaline spikes and her trained body attacks. 

Without hesitation, Uraraka darts forward to place a hand on the attacker's arm. The woman doesn’t dodge away like Uraraka has come to expect but instead just smacks Uraraka’s forearm in a powerful block that has the shorter woman careening to the side. Uraraka feels the reverberations from the hit all the way up her arm. That was like taking a hit from Deku! No wonder Momo is having a hard time breaking free from her hold.

Just then, in a feat of impressive concentration, Momo sprouts multiple knives from her face and arms, forcing her attacker to leap back lest she be stabbed.

Uraraka moves in immediately, pressing shoulders with Momo’s heaving torso, covering her, presenting a strong front as they assess their opponent.

The woman doesn’t give them even a moment to catch their breath, she’s instantly back on the offensive, charging them with startling speed. Momo and Uraraka doge and strike out together, forced into close quarters hand-to-hand combat.

Luckly, both Uraraka and Momo excel at close range fighting and two on one _should_ be great odds... but fuck it's immediately apparent how outclassed they are. The woman moves with an impossible speed, striking, diving under their attacks, and_ flipping over them_ in jaw-dropping maneuvers that should only been possible with a gravity reduction quirk. 

Jumping quirk?

Sweat drips down into Uraraka’s eyes. They’re moving too fast to do anything but defend, Uraraka can't even get an idea about the "villain"s" mental state because that damn mask gives nothing away.

Suddenly the woman is too close. She gets under Momo’s guard, striking in small, economical but ferocious jabs and Momo goes down hard. Uraraka’s heart drops. She lunges forward with frantic speed and finally manages to get all five fingers on the attacker's arm, following it up with a quick swipe at the legs. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for them, the woman jumps to avoid Uraraka’s blow and sends herself rocketing straight into the ceiling with a resounding thump.

Plaster rains down as the woman yanks her left arm and leg from where they were impaled in the ceiling and accidentally whips herself around with the momentum of her weightless body, back hitting the ceiling with another rain of debris and a pained electronic grunt. 

The figure looks down at them and there’s a frozen moment where the mask is just looking down at them and they’re looking up at her/it in a shocked, panting daze. Then suddenly there’s the sound of gleeful, robotic laughter coming from behind the woman’s mask. The first thing they’ve heard from her except a few labored breaths and it’s startling. Uraraka feels her eyebrows rise in surprise.

Then, without warning, the woman launches herself off the ceiling and straight at them, hands and feet dusted white. Uraraka quickly returns the woman's gravity and she drops like a rock. Right on top of them. The woman’s powerful springboard and momentary weightlessness sent her at them with such force and speed that not even Momo’s half conjured sword makes a difference. Their new teacher avoids the blade like a gust of vengeful wind and takes them down with merciless efficiency.

In two seconds flat, Momo is unconscious and Uraraka’s hands and feet are bound.

“Weapon creation and gravity cancelation. Those are really neat quirks. And you utilize them well.” The voice coming out of the masked face is distorted and mechanical, it’s almost like the woman is talking to herself as she finishes the knot at Uraraka's ankles.

Clearly the administration still doesn’t want anyone to guess their new teachers identity during the exercise. Though with a hysterical kind of amusement, Uraraka thinks they’re going a little overboard with the precautions. She doesn’t even _remotely_ recognize this Pro Hero or her lightening fast fighting style or her cool stealth battle armor. Uraraka wishes _she_ had a ninja suit.

“If you recover quickly, head to training ground G. If not, Recovery Girl.” The woman says standing up, all business as she finishes off one last knot around Momo’s ankles.

Then she’s just gone--sprinting down the hallway on light, silent feet.

Uraraka blinks after her, confusion and a sudden burning, frustration welling in her stomach. That woman just took them out with ease. Ease! Sure it was an ambush, and by nature one was never really ready for those, but Uraraka excels in close quarters combat. Has been training herself specifically and doggedly in that field since her first year so she could be prepared for situations like this. Heck, she can take on Bakugo without quirks on a good day. And yet the woman took both her and Momo down like it was nothing. Not even a workout.

Urarka feels her hands shaking, lips trembling. She wants to do better. Has to do better. And this woman is gonna teach her how.

* * *

BAKUGOU

He’s three fourth’s of the way through getting his uniform on when the lights in the boys locker room stutter off. Bakugou freezes, listening, his eyesight completely gone. There’s silence for a moment, then a sharp intake of breath.

Someone shouts. Todoroki creates a bubble of light around himself with a small flame and all the boys blink at each other, hearts pounding.

All the boys but one, Bakugou realizes. Sweat breaks out all over the explosion Hero’s body, especially his hands.

“Where’s Sero?” Kirishima’s voice is a whisper but it still sounds too loud in this cramped space. It’s quiet for a moment outside of their too loud breathing as everyone glances around as if expecting tape arms to jump out from behind one of the lockers and say ‘Gotcha!’.

Bakugou _tisks_ in annoyance. 

Then a muffled grunt from the hallway has everyone sprinting for the main door. At almost the same time, the damn overhead sprinklers go off, drenching them in seconds. With that they lose Todoroki’s fire and are again plunged into total darkness.

Someone reaches the door and pounds on it a few times, “Hello?” That’s Deku’s voice, high and strained. Dumb fuck, villains aren't gonna answer!

From behind them, there’s a muffled thump. Bakugou reacts instantly this time, despite the unwanted shower dampening all his senses _and_ his quirk, he lets of a small blast in the direction of the noise and catches a glimpse of feet being dragged behind a locker. “Over here!” He shouts sprinting through puddles, feet sliding erratically over the flooded tiles. Fucking water. A constant stream of tiny explosions lights his way, and honestly is all he can really make right now, until something rock solid collides with his head.

With all the white noise and almost no sight, he barely senses it coming. Raises his arm too slow and whatever it is barrels through his defense and slams him into the nearby lockers. Distantly, Bakugou feels something sharp and excruciating give in his neck and grunts in pain as lights that aren’t there dance before his eyes.

His classmates are shouting. Someone places frantic, searching hands on Bakugou’s back that he immediately shoves away.

After that, everything gets a little blurry. There’s a lot more yelling, screaming. Bodies go down hard. It’s impossible to see except for brief flashes of fire. Someone finally has the good sense to knock down the main door and let in light. The locker room is mess of students shuffling around checking corners and finding nothing, and a few of them slosh out into the hallway, gasping, blinking in the sudden light, eyes darting around looking for the intruder.

But the intruder somehow fucking materialized out here with them and is already streaking past in a blur of black. Suddenly, electric green meets muted black and the figure is swatted into a nearby wall like an insect. Cement cracks with the force of the hit and there’s an audible, if mechanical sounding grunt from the attacker as Deku steps back, gives her space… _her _Bakugou finally has time and light to notice.

His eyes widen as everything clicks into place.

The combat assignment doesn’t start in training ground G.

It started five minutes ago.

Confidence _and _a scheme, Bakugou thinks as he roars out his frustration, launching himself forward, pulling back a fist. The woman’s mask is focused on Deku who hesitates after dealing such a powerful blow. Deku doesn’t want to hurt her more without knowing how much he's hurt her already, but if she's still conscious, she's a problem in Bakugou's book, so he goes straight for her head, aiming for a knockout.

He doesn’t even get close enough to touch her.

It seems like she moves on instinct. Like the video of what Bakugou is about to do is already playing through her head and she doesn’t so much react, as act before he has time to truly start the action.

With insane turnaround speed, she lunges for his legs—her mask wasn’t even turned towards him—and Bakugou has to dodge at the last second. After a serious hit from Deku, she shouldn’t be able to move at all, let alone that fast! Durability quirk maybe? She moves past Bakugou lightning fast and pounces on Sero where he’s slumped on the ground, choking, grasping at his throat. She must have already hit him earlier.

Bakugo and Todoroki both aim blows but she expertly avoids even the idea of them, moving just before they do, weaving and dodging like a bird in flight. Predicting_ both_ their movements at the same time? Time manipulation quirk? The woman scopes Sero up as though he weighs nothing, spins him around and presses a knife firmly to his neck, his body over hers, shielding herself from them as she walks backwards.

Everyone pauses for a second, panting and expecting. Now is the time for the villain to start shouting threats, ultimatums, and demands. Instead, she just keeps backing up, that ski-mask-type-face-covering giving nothing away. When it finally sinks in that her aim is not threats but escape, Todoroki shouts wordlessly and sends ice to cover the door but she dives in at the last second, shoving off Sero like a springboard, body instantly swallowed by darkness and water.

Fuck, she’s _fast_.

“Pikachu, light her up!” Bakugou roars wasting no time. Can’t afford to.

“Half our class is still in there!” Kaminari shouts back and he’s right. During the confusion it seems only the five of them made it out.

“It doesn’t matter. We have to incapacitate her.” As usual, Todoroki is pure logic in the face of chaos. He doesn’t look the least bit ruffled. Asshole.

“Do it, Kaminari.” Deku confirms, expression grim. Under their combined peer pressure, Kaminari reluctantly steps forward as the ice melts away and aims a shock wave of lightening into the dark watery abbess. It lights up the locker room and a few weak cries can be heard, though there’s no way to tell if one of them is from the attacker. Somehow Bakugou doubts it.

Without a backward glance, Deku darts in, body alight with green. They pause for a moment, giving him room to move before dashing in after.

“That way!” Someone shouts from atop a wood bench, pointing to the back exit door that leads to the pool. A few others rise from various none electric conducting locations to join them in the chase as they race out the door.

“What’s going on?!” Cottencandy calls as they run, following the trail of green lightening.

“New teacher. Duh.” Bakugou’s brain must be concussed for him to be answering the sleepy fuckers questions. He usually avoids that. They turn a corner and see Deku hurtling backward into a wall, his arms somehow bound at the wrist in the space of the two seconds it took the rest of them to catch up. Dust rains from the ceiling when his back makes contact with the cement, creating a wave of cracks and a gut-wrenching crunch when his head whips back.

“Fuck!” Bakugou rages, blasting forward as the figure turns to run again.

She dives into a classroom, Bakugou hot on her heels but he comes up short when he finds her once again pressing a knife to someone’s throat. The classroom is full of second year students, support department.

“One step closer and he dies.” Her voice comes out distorted and robotic, modified by the mask no doubt.

“Ok, relax, we’re not moving.” Shinso pants slightly, stepping up beside Bakugou, hands raised in a placating gesture. “What exactly do you want?”

Bakugou’s gut clenches. If she answers it’s all over. If she just answers one Goddamn question, they_ win_.

Instead, she starts murmuring sinisterly into the hostage’s ear.

“Hey I’m talking to you! Tell us what you want or we’re coming in there.” Sweat drips down the side of Shinso’s face, all his concentration on making her respond.

She sucks in a breath to answer and something bizarre happens. Her figure stiffens but so does Shinso’s. Tension draws between them like a bowstring and Bakugou takes advantage of the distraction, whatever it is. He lunges into the classroom, first priority to get the hostage out of the attacker’s grasp.

“Hold still!” Shinso grits out, not to Bakugou but to the woman. Her body shudders. Jerky movements showcase that she’s struggling but she’s still _moving_, not holding still like he ordered. Shinso grunts, falling to his knees and at that moment Bakugou wrenches the hostage from the attackers grasp and whips the boy behind him. The woman immediately grabs another person and unceremoniously tosses, _tosses like a ball_, the student in Bakugou’s direction. With a grunt, Bakugou dives and manages to catch the person’s head just as the woman shatters the nearest window and hurdles straight out.

They give chase.

They run and dodge and weave and never _fucking _catch her. It’s the most maddening, useless… ridiculous _farce_ Bakugou has ever participated in. She never actually fights, just runs! They don’t know what she’s doing or where she may be heading or what her goals are besides fucking with them, so there’s no predicting her movements. No telling where she’ll go or who she’ll target next.

Bakugou and Deku managed to corner her at one point, at the edge of the soccer field, neither of them really holding back, and she takes a few hits then. _Finally_. Before she sprints like mad for a cluster of first years practicing on the nearby pitch.

Why are there so many fucking people at this goddamn school? He has to reign in all of his blasts to avoid property and human damage while she just runs around breaking anything she wants. Grabbing people. Redirecting their attention, throwing civilians at them both physically and metaphorically. Hell, Bakugou has to stop and comfort a hysterical student that thinks _Bakugou Katsuki_ of all people is a good person to start crying on. It takes a hot second but with a pointed look from Deku, and many expletive fueled growls, Bakugou manages to stop and not hit the kid and grit out polite words and pat his stupid crying head.

Their new psycho teacher put the kid up to it. Bakugou _knows_. They had been getting too close. Stupid, fucking—with her fireproof armor and dumb mask and ridiculous evasion tactics—just _fight_!

After a few hours of tearing up campus, Aiazawa announces over the loudspeakers that the simulation is over and it’s time to meet at training ground G. He has the nerve to thank the other classes for their participation in the circus.

Bakugou has _tear stains_ on his uniform and steam coming out of his ears. No way. No fucking way they all lost. What a load of shit.

3-A is looking a little worse for wear as everyone struggles onto the empty field where All Might and Aizawa are waiting for them. Froggy walks with a limp, Glasses has a black eye and a few broken ribs judging by the way he’s clutching his torso, and Bakugou has a concussion along with several loose teeth that he keeps poking at with his tongue. He had been screaming up a storm, as usual, and she had gone straight for his mouth. Rude. No one has ever deliberately tried to knock out his teeth before. Or maybe no one has ever gotten this close.

Bitterness and hot anger war for dominance in his head and Bakugou hisses when he absentmindedly clenches his burnt hands again. Backfire so rarely happens anymore, he’d almost forgotten it _could_ happen to him.

As the class approaches, their new teacher still clothed in that black armor jogs out from behind a nearby building and it’s all Bakugou can do not to start letting off explosions with his already fried hands. His body clenches, ready for the fight she never really gave him through the entire dissatisfying chase.

She doesn’t acknowledge them though. Just lopes over to Aizawa, says something into his ear to which he nods. Then she’s whipping off her mask.

“You guys, that was _amazing_!” The fucking menace is panting slightly, sweat dripping down over light brown cheeks, and she sports an excited, incredulous expression. “I can’t—I mean, that was incredible! I’ve never had a group of students tire me out so bad. You had me on the run almost the whole time. I barely had time to breathe.” She adds with an exaggerated hand to an imaginary stitch in her side and a smile. Her accent is light, like she’s been living in Japan for years not days.

There’s a moment of stunned silence as everyone just takes her in.

Except for the bubbly smile, she could be the poster child for one of those old military recruitment offices, complete with excellent posture, soldierly armor and a shaved close, no nonsense hairstyle. Light scares mare the otherwise silky brown skin of her face. Two thin lines on her jaw and a jagged one right above her left ear, the last one almost looks like a burn mark.

More than anything else that stands out about her physically, she’s _tall_. Americans generally are, statistically speaking, but this woman is massive, almost as tall as All Might. She towers over Aizawa, all lean muscle and confident bearing.

This woman who grins at them as though greeting old friends, as though she didn’t just thoroughly, brutally, stomp all their asses in one go.

At least she broke a fucking sweat doing it.

She blinks expectantly, face curious but everyone is either too stunned or too annoyed to say anything to the person who just went from beating them senseless to complementing them, swift and unsettling as a light switching on and off.

She seems to notice the tension and her smile turns a little sheepish, if not properly contrite, “I know this was a difficult challenge. This was our one and only opportunity for a truly blind matchup and I didn’t want to waste it by going easy on you. A lot of the stuff I threw at you is—were, ah,” A fleetingly darkness flashes over her face. “Situations I had to deal with personally in the field and I’m sincerely impressed with how well you all reacted. Better than I did the first time, that’s for sure.” She grins conspiratorially. “Even with all the odds stacked against you, everyone performed… um, very… admira-ble-y?” She hesitates, frowning slightly and glances at All Might.

“Admirably.” He enunciates clearly and she parrots the word back with proper pronunciation. It’s fleeting and casual and done with such a remarkable fearlessness of scorn that Bakugou is left momentarily winded. It’s the kind of easy confidence of a person completely unafraid of admitting ignorance.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re all eager to hear you’re results. The three of us are going to look over the footage of our fights and have a short debriefing ready for you by the last period. While it’s still fresh, you know? There’ll be a more comprehensive review of your performance later in the week. For now, you’re dismissed for lunch.”

There’s an informal cadence to the way she talks. Like they’re all just mingling at a barbeque and not a teacher and her students after an intense physical evaluation. Informal. Friendly.

Everyone just stares at her, disbelieving. Bakugou is still struggling to process and hating her for every second she’s not explaining exactly what the fuck—

“Sensei, wait, we—you haven’t even told us who you are yet!” Mina speaks what everyone else is thinking, a split lip and distrait inquiry coloring her face.

“Oh right,” The woman hesitates for just a second. “I’m Corina Day, my Pro Hero name is Dreamer and you can use that or my first name or last name or whatever. I’m not fussy.”

There’s a beat of silence again.

“Fucking what?!”

Then the noise that explodes out of the class truly rivals one Bakugou's own outbursts, except it’s from_ everybody_.

“WHAT? No way!”

“Pro Hero Dreamer? That’s incredible!”

“Why did you come here?!”

“No way. No _fucking_ way.”

“But… Dreamer-san is the _number one_ Pro Hero in America.” Deku’s voice is very far away, as if calculating some unfamiliar equation and finding an impossible answer.

“Whoa guys, relax.” She grins, holding her hands up. “The rankings in America don’t really matter that much. It’s just a popularity contest. I’ve been number one for, what? Like three months? It’s not really a big deal. Besides, I agreed to this waaay before I got the top spot.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, young Dreamer. You’ve worked very hard to get where you are.” All Might says fondly, softly, and Dreamer’s eyes flash to his, going wide in shock for a second before she quickly glances away, “Uh. Right. Anyway, it’s lunchtime. Are we done here?” She says with a very unsubtle topic change.

The interaction screams of familiarity. Like they’ve had this conversation before, Bakugou realizes distantly while the screaming in his mind finally comes to a head.

“NO you are NOT done here. You have a lot of questions to answer.” Bakugou spits out loud and angry and righteous. For the first time, the woman looks at him without a mask on and he notices that her eyes are tan of all colors, like a field of wheat. “Your quirk is supposed to be Dream Hopping, right? Not super strength, or speed or durability or time manipulation. So how _the fuck_ did you take a punch from Deku _at full power,_ with only dream hopping, and get right back up? It can’t just be that fancy suit.”

“I wondered about that too.” Deku adds with a frown.

“And you move almost as fast as All Might!” Mina chimes in.

Dreamer didn’t come anywhere close to All Might in speed as far as Bakugou could tell but that wasn’t really the question right now.

“And you completely negated my quirk. That’s never happened before.” Cottencandy says quietly, glancing at Aizawa.

Dreamer opens her mouth. Closes it.

All Might and Aizawa both turn to her, presumably allowing her to decide how much to disclose now that the exam is over.

She glances at the other two teachers and then back to the students, taking a sharp breath through her nose. Suddenly her expression shifts, blanking out completely. The change in demeanor is so striking that Bakugou blinks a few times to be sure he’s seeing it right. It’s an expression that reminds him of nothing so much as a buffering computer screen with too many tabs open. Deceivingly still. A Blank face hiding thousands of processes and complex operations going on beneath the surface.

What the fuck. Is this her quirk? What di—

Then the woman blinks and her face melts back into crinkled eyes and an easy smile, as though it had never been anything else.

“Those are all good questions but I’m not gonna answer them right now. It’s lunch time and I’m hungry.” Everyone groans. Bakugou glares. What’s the point in being secretive now except to piss them off? What does she have to hide?

The others must be sporting pretty pathetic pouts on their miserable faces because she rolls her eyes and adds, “I’m gonna be here for five months, guys. We have time. I’ll answer all your questions eventually, I promise. For now, go eat!”

She makes a shoeing gesture and then turns to All Might and Aizawa in clear dismissal.

Well. At least she knows how to act like a teacher _some_ of the time.

Deku still has a frown and isn’t moving as the rest of class disperses. His eyes are fixed on Dreamer.

“Move, Deku.” Bakugou shoulder checks the green bean to get his attention and adds under his breath. “We’ve got some research to do.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How’d you take the hit from Deku?” There’s no sympathy in Kacchan’s voice. Just calculation. Straight back to business, as if how she feels doesn’t matter at all.

CORINA

Cori slumps on the couch in the teachers lounge with an exhausted groan.

“They really took it out of you, huh?” Midnight, a woman with more confidence in her pinky toe than Cori has in her whole body, looks up from grading papers as the three of them stroll in, or stumble, in Cori’s case.

Aiazawa loads the past few hours of video feed into a projector in the coffee table while Toshi rummages around in the kitchen.

“You can say that again. I hurt all over.” Cori runs a damp towel over her face and head, grateful to have the mask off.

“Our kids are the best.” She says with a smirk and Cori grins back.

“Best I’ve worked with. And that’s saying something." Cori sits back, getting comfortable. "Schools bring me on _a lot_ to assess their top students since I can do both physiological evals and physicals." She shrugs. "Two birds, ya know.”

“So you’ve worked with a lot of students but only on one time assessments? This is your first long term teaching stint?” Midnight picks up her work and comes to sit directly across from them in a comfy looking chair with large handles built for writing.

“Yeah it is.” Cori doesn’t feel defensive admitting this because the question isn’t disparaging. The only emotion coming from Midnight right now is curiosity. “I’m really excited to get to work with a group of kids for more than a few days. Stay for a while… I always have to leave before I really get a chance to get to know the students. And these ones seem especially interesting to work with.”

Toshi comes back over with tea and she accepts a cup then scoots over a bit to allow room on the couch for all three of them. The moment the tea hits her lips, Cori’s stomach growls in angry protest at being empty for so long. She grits her teeth slightly and keeps sipping. 

Aizawa’s face is a blank mask as he finishes setting up the projector with the video footage from this morning. “You say they’re good but you still managed to have an interaction with each and every one of them without them laying a hand on you.”

Cori knows Aizawa has reservations about her. Can sense his confusion and suspicion as well as a fierce protectiveness for his students that seems to underlie everything he does. It’s intimidating and heartwarming to be on a staff with someone who cares so much.

She wants to assuage his fears. Tell him everything.

Why Nedzu chose her. How she rose so fast in U.S. Pro circuit. Her quirk. How she became a Pro in the first place. Difficult subjects for sure, but worth sharing if the ultimate outcome is trust. Unfortunately, it’s not _just _her story to tell.

_“How many people know?” _

Naturally, she’d wondered how much of the staff was going to be appraised of her and All Might’s history, how integral he’d been to her rise in both skill and fame. Knowing how private and unduly humble Toshi can be, she figured not many.

What she didn’t expect was how evasive and embarrassed the question would make him.

_“How many people know?”_

_His eyes dart away in shame, mind a cloudy mess of emotions shifting and surging like tidal waves. “Just Principal Nedzu.” He finally answers. Tiny snowflakes collect in in the limp golden hair around his face._

_“Toshi” With one deliberate stride, she steps right in front of him, forcing the Hero into a lurching a halt in the middle of the cold January sidewalk lest he run into her. His eyes widen. “What about the other teachers we’ll be working with regularly? Why does telling them the details bother you so much?” She frowns. “…Surely they’re trustworthy?”_

_She’s probing his mind carefully and it’s only because she’s paying such close attention that she senses a brief flash of fear. _

_“Yes. Of course they are. It’s…I—”He huffs and looks away, squirming beneath her gaze. “It’s nothing, I suppose. Just an old man’s insecurities.”_

_“Toshi, you’re thirty-eight.”_

_“And fading fast.”_

_Anger flashes through her then, hot and irrational. “Don’t say that.” She snaps._

_“I won’t lie to you.” He says, eyes solemn, calm._

_Cori bites her lip and looks away. Snow is falling more earnestly now. The long thick coat she wears keeps out the cold for the most part. Everything is muffled. Chill air nips at her nose. _

_“What insecurities?” She asks softly, looking back up._

_“That was the first time I failed.” He shrugs. “And whatever you may claim, your accomplishments as a Hero are despite my failings, not because of my actions. Retelling the events of my first and greatest failure will never be easy.”_

_Cori huffs out a sigh and looks away again. They’ve had this conversation before. He won’t change his mind. Neither will she. _

_It wasn’t his fault. “But I can tell them if they ask?”_

_He grins, a small crooked thing. “I won’t ask you to dance around the truth. I know you hate having to do that.”_

_“Humph.” She grumbles, pivoting slowly, starting to walk again, hiding a grin. “Seems like that might be the only thing you know.” _

_All Might laughs._

After that, he’d shown her the good grocery store near her new apartment on campus and they hadn’t broached the subject again. Now Cori thinks about how much easier things would be if Aizawa knew the whole story. She doesn’t blame him his suspicions. Not really.

It is his job to investigate, to sniff out secrets, and they haven’t given him anything but bare bones to gnaw at. Of course he’s skeptical about why an institution like U.A. would hire a twenty-two-year-old Hero to teach and evaluate its golden class. The whole staff likely has their misgivings. For some reason though, Cori feels that Aizawa is the one she needs to win over most. Everyone else will come with time. He is going to take more convincing.

For now, she sticks with lightheartedly answering his definitive not-a-question-but–I-want-to-know-the-answer statement.

“No hands maybe but there were quite a few fists.” She jokes rubbing at a tender spot under her ribcage. A gift from the furious kid, she thinks, the one with the burning soul and watchful eyes. He’ll be a handful. Or the bruise could be from the green one, the boy with a heart almost as empathetic as hers and a punch to match All Might’s.

Beforehand, she’d asked Toshi not to tell her which one was his successor. Not that it had really mattered. It only took one hit for her to be able to tell Midoriya had All For One, only a few seconds probing his mind to recognize characteristics befitting One For All’s successor.

“I’m surprised you tired so quickly, though. Are you taking care of yourself?” Toshi asks settling down with his spidery limbs folded up comically, steaming mug dwarfed in his hands. His blue eyes flash to her. Convey his worry.

“Yes,” She quirks a brow at him, trying to express without words how unnecessary his concern is even though her stomach aches in emptiness. When he keeps looking at her she just shrugs. “I just didn’t sleep so well last night. All the new nightmares…”

All Might grimaces and she realizes how that must have sounded, “Not yours!” She rushes to say. She’s been in his dreams for the last three nights. They’re not that bad when he works with her. “Yours was actually the most relaxing part of the evening. There’s just an adjustment period every time I move to a new place. It’ll be better in a few days.”

On average it actually took several weeks for Cori to become acquainted with all the nearby souls who had troubled dreams. But they don't need the grimy details.

“Are you alright to continue? You could have a nap in the corner. Aizawa often does.”

“In the corner. On the couch. Under his _desk_.” Midnight drawls, eyes on her tablet.

“An unorthodox schedule requires frequent naps. Not all of us are popular enough to operate in daylight hours.” Aizawa intones dryly, sipping at a piping hot cup of black tea and squinting in exaggerated resentment. Cori laughs when Midnight childishly sticks her tongue out.

All Might looks at Cori expectantly, a faint thread of worry still running through his mind and she frowns “Tosh, please. If I need a break, I’ll take it.” Then adds under her breath so only he can hear, “You can’t be treating me like a kid.”

Blue eyes blink at her, then away, thoughtful.

After a quiet moment with only the small sounds of humans reordering themselves in seats, he nods.

“You’re right,” He looks at her with laughter in his soul. “As usual. Sorry, I should know better than to question you by now.”

“Don’t worry about it." She says, softness and understanding passing between them with a look. "Most of the time, you’re right to say something.”

He scoffs. The movement contorts his sunken features and bright eyes into something exaggerated and wild and it startles a laugh from Cori at the sight. She tries to stifle it but Toshi chuckles at her reaction. They grin at each other. It’s nice when things can be lighthearted. Communication is a beautiful thing.

Cori can feel Midnight's keen, inquisitive gaze and chooses to ignore it. She has nothing to hide. Let the woman watch.

After a few more minutes of button pressing and debate over where to start, the video is rolling.

It’s… Well.

It’s actually kind of hard to watch.

The students are tough, exceptionally so. Cori had to go _all out_ in some cases to even give herself a chance. Along with Midoriya and the hotheaded one, the kid with the fire and ice quirk was especially difficult to avoid. She’d had to immediately start preying on his emotions just to give herself some breathing room.

She winces now. Listening to herself question his morals as he uses his fire on a defenseless woman. Cliché but it usually gets some sort of reaction out of the macho types. Not this one. He keeps coming at her. Getting desperate and sensing a strong paternally associated tension, Cori calls out, asking if his father would be proud of his tactics.

He falters, she strikes. It’s heartbreaking.

“Damn you did not pull any punches.” Vlad, a heavily built man with a square-ish face and serious mind, says leaning over the back of Midnight’s chair. Along with most of the faculty, Cori had been briefly introduced to him in the last few days during her orientation. Now he watches with shrewd interest as the chase unfolds on screen.

Over the last few hours, other teachers have been moving in an out of the common room and more than a few stayed to watch the carnage. Everyone winces when Cori jumps from a significant height and deliberately lands on one of the frog girl’s—Cori glances down to check her notes—Tsu’s legs.

Nausea rolls the tea around in her otherwise empty belly and Cori rubs at her forehead.

They have a competent and experienced healer on staff and with the way All Might has been talking, Cori had thought, for these particular students, it was best go all out this first time. Make it a _real_ test. Watching it back though, she’s having serious regrets. Will the students hate her? Will this new staff think she’s heartless? Careless? An irresponsible Pro that shouldn’t be teaching? She’s not sensing anything overtly negative from the room yet but that could change quickly.

Toshi glances at her and something in his demeanor softens. “It’s never easy watching it back.”

She takes a deep breath. For some reason she can’t meet his eye. Maybe it’s the empathy quirk, maybe she’s just a bad actor, but Cori always feels like people can see right through her. Sense all of her weaknesses and emotion and fear just like she can for them.

“Oh don’t worry honey, we beat them up all the time.” Midnight calls flippantly.

“And that’s nothing compared to how bad they beat each other. That class is really made of something different.” Vlad shakes his head as though disbelieving his own statement.

“Whatever their feelings on you handing them their asses today, I guaranty they would have been far more upset if you had gone easy on them.” Aizawa adds in his gravelly tone and somehow, that’s most reassuring of all. He approves. And this is essentially_ his _class after all. Cori sits up a little straighter.

“That’s how I was as a teenager." She says, "It always drove me crazy when teachers went easy on me because I knew a villain wouldn’t.”

“’How you were as a teenager,’” Midnight mimics with a scoff. “And when was that, like yesterday?”

It’s an innocent enough question. Cori gets that one a lot. Doesn’t mean she has to answer.

“Something like that.” She shrugs, throwing Midnight a cocky grin and the older woman smirks back, easily accepting the none-answer.

Cori feels a thrill of warmth at the easy camaraderie between them. It had blossomed unexpectedly, though it’s really not all that surprising. They are two women in a male dominated field. More than most, they know the importance of keeping some things to yourself. They understand how careful one has to be. And how easy it can be to say too much to the wrong people.

Trust takes time.

Let them, and people would use all sorts of arbitrary reasons to find fault with your work, reasons to bring you down—too old, too young, weak quirk, villainous quirk. People can throw shots over anything. Best to give them as little ammunition as possible.

Cori looks back to her notes and scribbles under Midnights entry, ‘_Safe._’

* * *

BAKUGOU

“I can’t believe how little information there is on her! This is just her quirk assessment." Uraraka scrolls with one thumb while slurping up noodles off chopsticks in the other hand. "It doesn't have anything from her school. Not even a picture. No internship info, no time as a side-kick. Where did she come from?!” 

“Ok let’s start with the baswics—then," Momo swallows hard around a ridiculously large mouthful of food. "What _does_ it say about her?” She asks while eating with both hands, desperately trying to make up for the calories she burned that morning and still intent on absorbing information. Lucky for her, recovery was as simple as eating a shit-ton after every exertion and having pushover classmates.

“Pro Hero Dreamer,” Kaminari starts reading out loud. “’Quirk: Dream hopper. She can sense people’s emotions both asleep and awake but she’s much more powerful when asleep.’”

Duh. Old news.

“Seems pretty powerful when she’s awake too.” Kirishima grumbles under his breath, rubbing at his thigh and Kaminari elbows him before continuing.

“’While asleep she can enter into the dreams of those within close proximity and alter them to suit her needs.’ Huh, it doesn’t give an actual range though.” Kaminari frowns down at his phone for a moment and then Sero pipes up, continuing where Static left off.

“’Since becoming a Pro in 2327, Dreamer has mostly worked in the underground, dealing with mental manipulation quirks and physiological recovery for victims of villain attacks, acting as a Rescue Hero and Hero psychologist. That is, until she exploded onto the scene last year, blowing the Hero community away with the successful…' Shit, there's a lot here." He squints down at his phone. "The list is stupid long, especially for how short a time she’s been working." He starts listing the big ones. "Dismantled Eco terrorist plot with zero casualties… Talked down a school shooter… ousted _five separate_ crime families in as many days! Jesus, ‘Gangs that had been plaguing Los Angeles poorer districts for the past three decades’…”

“West coast girl huh? Niiiice.” Kaminari pokes in.

“Shut up.” Jirou swats his face. “You don’t even know what that means.”

“Huh, I wonder what changed.” A thoughtful voice says. “How’d she go from Underground Rescue to Public Assault class Hero overnight like that?”

“And why? If she was so successful in the underground?”

“Yeah and how come there’s no information about her personally? It just goes on, and on about her accomplishments but nothing about, ya know, HER. Where she’s actually from, her family, who she works with, her agency—”

“Yeah and what’s with the mask? Does she wear that thing all the time? There’s different uniforms on here but she always has the mask.”

“Lots of American pros wear masks to hide their identity.” Shinso shrugs. “It’s a cultural thing I guess.”

“Aren’t there more details about her quirk?” Tarou asks.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“I’m not finding anything either.” Someone else says in evident frustration.

“Wait, 2327… so she’s been a pro for _six _years? She doesn’t look—how old is this lady?”

“She can’t be more than thirty right? It’s so hard to tell with Americans.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s closer to twenty, ribbet.”

“That would make her the youngest Number One in history! Well, Japanese history. What’s it like in the US?”

Bakugou grits his teeth and works to block them all out, turning back to the only other occupant of his table.

“You know better than anyone what it looks like. What’d you think?” He growls to Deku, lowly, so none of the extras can hear him.

“Hmmmm.” Bastard’s still scrolling aimlessly through his phone but there’s only so much they can find in a one-hour lunch period. “I don’t know, Kacchan. She could just be really strong and have a high pain tolerance.”

“Bullshit.”

Deku sighs and rolls his eyes. “I just think you’re jumping to conclusions! We don’t have enough evid—”

“She knows him.”

“Lots of people know All Might.”

Now it’s Bakugou’s turn to scoff in annoyance. “Come on dipshit, you saw them. He knows her too. They’re comfortable together. I’d bet you 20,000 yen she knows about the rest of it.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate on what the rest of it is. Not with Deku.

Green eyes are briefly obscured as Deku looks down and away. “Even if you’re right, I doubt either of them wants to talk about the kind of circumstances that would lead to—well… her _knowing, _finding out at such a young age—”

“Ask.” Bakugou demands.

“What?! No. It’s not my business.”

“It could be important! And we both know he doesn’t tell you anything important until it’s forced out of him! All Might practically _hordes_ personal information.” Bakugou grumbles under his breath.

Deku frowns, shifting uncomfortably. “Can you blame him? It’s not alwa—”

“Yes!” Bakugou growls, cutting the other hero off with a low hiss, “I can blame him for keeping important information from people who _need to know_, who have a right to know, just because he’s uncomfortable. Grow up, Deku. He has faults just like the rest of us. Name one fucking time he shared information with you without being coerced into it by someone else. He needs a push with this sort of thing!”

“Oh because you’re so good at sharing your feeling?” Deku bites out, and the punk must be getting worked up if fucking sweetness and rainbows has stopped falling out of his ass.

“Better than I was, asshole. And don’t get off topic. I share plenty.”

With a pinched, wary look Deku glances away. Heaves a long, heavy sigh. Trying to center himself maybe. Bring back the rainbows. “If you think it’s so important, than _you _ask him.”

“No. No way, you ain’t squirrelling out of this.” Bakugou sits up pointing a finger at Deku. “You’re the chosen one.” He hisses under his breath. “You ask.”

“But I’m not the one who wants to know!”

“Then you’re a dumb fuck!”

The bell rings while the two Heroes glare at each other, indignant, frustrated, cut off before they can properly finish the conversation. From the look in Deku’s eyes though, the discussion is over. He won’t ask. Fuck, the dipshit was so terrified of prying into All Might’s personal life that he couldn’t see—

“All right you two, time to cool off and time for class.” Uraraka, well used to the two’s “discussions”, saunters over with Kirishima and deftly leads Deku away, leaving Bakugou and Kirishima alone as the second bell rings.

“What was it this time?” The redhead asks conversationally as thy walk to class.

“Nothing.” Bakugou mutters, irritable and calculating, mind already consumed with strategies and questions and possibilities. “Come on.”

* * *

MIDORIYA

As promised, the last period of the day sees All Might, Aizawa-sensei and Dreamer at the front of the class, pointing at video feeds and giving useful feedback on what they found to be the student’s strongest and weakest moments from this morning. Three loose lines form in the classroom, giving each teacher and student a few moments of relative privacy, though the other’s in the class still catch glimpses of the video feed along with snatches of conversation in the warm hum of discussion that envelopes the room.

After receiving their short evaluation, students amble around in high spirits discussing which questions to ask Dreamer during a short Q&A promised for the last fifteen minutes of class.

It’s an oddly casual and comfortable atmosphere, one where boundaries are blurred and Dreamer’s bright, infectious laugh reverberates through the room. Are all American teachers so informal or is it just Dreamer? Midoriya contemplates her, hand pressed to his chin.

Since the morning she’s changed into loose civilian clothes, a blue long-sleeve shirt and black jeans. She looks comfortable and at ease in her new environment, not nervous at all. How did other people do that? Most people seem less anxious than Midoriya but it's something more with this woman. It's like she knows what people are going to say before they say it. She nods and smiles and never seems surprised. 

There’s a heavy weight to her words, a deep surety one usually sees in much older people. She kinda reminds him of Gran Torino.

She’s different, careful, about how she talks with every student.

With Todoroki she is solemn and apologetic. “I don’t really know anything about your situation… not my… sorry for…”

During the brief exchange, Todoroki's expression remains as unaffected and poised as ever, but afterward there’s an obvious new lightness in the subtle signs of his body language. The way his shoulders relax and hands lay loose in by his sides. Midoriya knows he doesn’t feel safe around most people right away, especially not someone who knows about his father. But it looks like she managed to reassure him.

With Mina she laughs a lot and there’s something very conspiratorial with the way the two of them grin at each other.

Bakugou manages to match her intensity and they spend a goodly portion of his short interview silently sizing the other up. It infuriates him, Deku can tell, being in such a vulnerable position, emotions unwillingly laid bare before a stranger.

Midoriya is closer this time, so he manages to catch most of their conversation.

“I couldn’t give you a straight fight because most of you are more powerful than I am, and together, I wouldn’t have stood a chance." She says. "I think you’re probably going to run into that a lot in your Hero career. Your quirk is insanely powerful, destructive, versatile and on top of that, you’re _fast_. Smart villains are going to avoid confrontations with you at all costs so I’d get used to running, if I were you.”

When it’s his turn, Dreamer’s eyes immediately trap Midoriya, zeroing in on him like a dog with a particularly excellent stick. But unlike a dogs playful biting, she goes straight for his throat.

“You’re afraid to hurt people.” She says quietly and without preamble, pointing at the video where Deku is standing over her prone form and hesitating.

Midoriya blinks at her, his face going red. “Well, yes, but—”

“That’s not wrong, I’m not chastising you.” She assures him. “As heroes, it’s absolutely crucial to have empathy and be careful with our abilities. However,” She pauses here, scrutinizes him to make sure he’s really listening. “You have to take into account your own wellbeing and that of your team. If a person has unquestionably revealed themselves to have harmful intent, it is your obligation as a Hero to ensure that as few people are hurt as possible. Sometimes that means irreversibly harming a villain.” She looks back at the frozen video. “It’s never easy.” She adds with a soft voice, and then looks back at him. “But when you knocked me down there, you should have made sure I stayed down. Understand?”

Midoriya’s mind is whirling a mile a minute. “But a hit like the one I gave you the first time, often breaks bones. I wasn’t holding back because I was afraid of _hurting_ you. I didn’t want to _kill_ you.” He clarifies and she nods.

“You didn’t know what I was capable of so you played it safe. I agree, oft-times that is the best strategy. However at that point,” she points again “whether I was hurt or not was inconsequential, you’d already landed the hit. Already done the damage. So couldn’t you have simply reduced your power output, aimed for the head and tried to knock me out?

Midoriya’s mind practically stutters as he looks at the validity of her statement. “I—I guess I could have. But…”

She just looks at him, expectant, patient. When he doesn’t answer she goes on slowly, “…but you were afraid to hurt me.” She’s gazing at him with such intensity he’s afraid he might catch flame. “So, Midoriya, what do you think would help you to be less scared in the future?” She asks, eyes perceptive.

Midoriya can’t tell if she knows the answer and is testing him or is genuinely curious about his answer. He lets himself think about it.

“The only thing I can think of,” He says slowly, “Is if I knew ahead of time what my opponent could handle, but you already demonstrated how that creates lag time in a real battle so I don’t—”

“What if you started with the most basic things you _could_ know about your opponents?”

Midoriya squints, trying to understand, sorting through the pieces she’s giving him…

“Most humans share the same base morphology” She nudges slowly, watching him. “Even if we’ve begun to diverge over time...”

“We all started from the same place!” His eyes widen as it all finally clicks, hands jumping up in formless excitement. “Oh if—oh my gosh this is perfect—I-if I can find quantifiable measures of average human endurance and elasticity, things like--things like, the amount of force it takes on average to break a femur or the amount of concussive force it takes to knock someone unconscious—” this is probably coming out too fast to be actual words but when Midoriya finds her gaze again, his own bright with possibilities, she’s smiling. “Then I can go into the lab and see what percentage of my power equals the amount of force I want to apply on the average human body so I don’t have to guess on how much power I use until I learn more about that person's quirk! I can just start at the base line and go from there!” His body is vibrating with anticipation at the potential.

Dreamer laughs, “Exactly! I wasn’t sure if it was so obvious you were missing it or if you had thought of that already.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t! This will help so much with my hesitation in combat and with allowing teammates to get close if necessary, sometimes they have to back off to avoid the backlash. Not to mention, it’s good base knowledge just to have—can’t believe I didn’t—maybe I can take a supplementary in-depth course on human anatomy and physiology. Though U.A. may not have a—Recovery Girl will know for sure. Thank you so much, Dreamer-san!”

He bows and looks up to find surprise and amusement flashing across her face. “Of course. Glad I could help.” Her smile is warm and crinkles her tan eyes, making Midoriya think of dappled sunlight.

Not everyone gets a private interview with Dreamer-san. Uraraka has that familiar, terrifying look of determination on her face so Midoriya knows it’s only a matter of time before she gets her one-on-one with Dreamer.

Finally it’s question time.

“All right everyone,” the room quiets down as people find their seats and Dreamer hops up to sit on the desk at the front of the room, Aizawa and All Might talking quietly off to the side.

“Whatcha’ got?” She asks with a smirk and a deliberate western drawl as she leans her weight back on her hands, feline and relaxed.

Uraraka gets the first question the group agreed on and throws her hand in the air.

When Dreamer nods she says, “Dreamer-san, how did you anticipate our attacks?”

“Well everyone’s different, obviously,” She starts, crossing her legs and leaning forward with the comfortable air of someone who’s explained this before. “But there’s usually a very strong psychological response when a person chooses to hit another. They either get excited or nervous or angry or some combination but in any case there is always a reason for our actions. Everything we do is fueled by emotions and because I can sense them, I know when you’re going to move. Not how,” She raises a finger for emphasis, “But I do know that _you are going to move_.”

Midoriya nods along. He’d figured as much.

“Why is there so little personal information available on the internet about you?” Shinso’s eyes are bright and observant in that way he has when he’s assessing an opponent before battle. “I mean, we know underground Pro’s are practically anonymous but since you’ve started working as a active combatant, your status as a mysterious figure hasn’t really changed. All the other top twenty Heroes have extensive bios that are open for public record.”

Dreamer’s face shutters somewhat. “It’s…” The smile slides off and she looks down, taking a breath. “My personal life—my past, is. Well, it’s rather painful to talk about honestly and my emotions are difficult to control sometimes. So I don’t. I don’t really discuss or even think about those things unless the situation is extreme.”

In the corner, Aizawa and All might have fallen silent. The room feels heavier than before.

She grins, face clearing, pulling the conversation back into easier waters. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s not that I don’t want to share it’s just, I—I, umm, can’t. Really… so. Sorry. ”

She rubs at the back of her shaved head in a nervous gesture that looks new. Like she’s still getting used to the feeling of buzzed hair under her fingertips. “Next?”

“How’d you take the hit from Deku?” There’s no sympathy in Kacchan’s voice. Just calculation. Straight back to business, as if how she feels doesn’t matter at all.

Surprisingly though, she doesn’t look put off. A slow predatory grin spreads across her face, transforming it back from nervous to completely in control. “How much can you lift, Bakugo?”

“I’m not the one answering questions.” He scoffs and she just shrugs, her smirk growing.

“I’m trying to answer.”

He falls silent. In that careful calculating way he does when something has his complete and utter attention and it’s not good. Midoriya gulps.

“390.” He finally answers, without the usual smugness. He's no the strongest in class since moving through the air smoothly requires less weight, but Kacchan has always been proud of his fitness level. 

She nods, hopping off the desk. “Will you help me with a demonstration?”

Bakugou shoves out of his desk and up to the front of the room, glaring and unintentionally graceful. Midoriya wonders if Bakugou even knows how fluid all his movements are, not just the ones in battle. He probably does. Midoriya flexes his stiff right hand and tries not to sigh. Even when Bakugou’s trying to be grouchy and intimidating, his body moves with distinctive fluidity.

Dreamer is full on grinning now, her eyes alight. “Ok lift my arm.” She holds it out to him and he takes it with a frown. And then immediately almost drops it when she lets her arm go slack, his body jerking with the obvious weight.

“Heavy.” He grunts, lifting it a little higher just to prove he can.

“Think you can lift me?” She teases, pulling her arm back and turning to face the class. “You see my body—”

But she cuts off and her eyes dart to the side as Bakugou squats down and she huffs out a laugh as she realizes what he’s doing. She allows him to hook an arm under her knees and leans back slightly as he attempts to lift her. Bakugou’s face turns red. The muscles in his neck and forearms stand out in obvious strain as he huffs and adjusts his grip, lifting her just slightly.

“Not bad” She laughs, patting him on the shoulder as he sets her down again and she can step away. “Should have expected that, I guess, with your temper.”

“What temper!” Kacchan bites out, grumpy and red-faced with effort. Half the class cackles and the other half groans in familiar embarrassment. Midoriya can’t help the fond smirk that works its way across his face.

Dreamer just beams, “So how much do you think I weigh? And don’t highball it to save your pride or low-ball it to save mine.”

Bakugou scoffs. “As if. You’re probably over 450.”

“480.” She confirms, glowing with pride. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw your back out.”

Bakugou just _tisks_ and rolls his shoulders, face set in his usual scowl. She gestures and he moves back to his seat, more deferential than before.

“So can anyone guess why I’m so heavy?”

Midoriya’s hand shoots into the air and she nods at him with a smile.

“You’re dense.” He says, mind working through the specifics. “I’d guess you either have an exoskeleton or your normal skeleton is two or three times denser than a normal humans. Though it’s unlikely to be an exoskeleton since you’re outward appearance doesn’t really support that hypothesis.”

She nods. “That doesn’t explain how I’m able to move though. If it were just a dense skeleton, I’d be much slower.”

Momo’s hand shoots up. “Couldn’t your musculature adapt or be trained to handle the strain?” Succinctly voicing exactly what Izuku had been thinking.

“In part,” Dreamer shrugs. “I do have to train more than most to maintain the necessary muscle but I’m also lucky because my musculature, along with my bones, are three times denser than the average humans. It makes it possible for me to move faster and take serious hits.” She throws a sharp grin at Midoriya before going on. “Unfortunately, my skin _is not_ extra dense. Hence the suit and mask.”

There’s a bit of mumbling as everyone takes in this information.

“Physical and mental.” Bakugou says, “That’s a hella’va quirk.” Despite his relaxed slouch, his eyes are squinty and intense.

Dreamer considers him, calm and slow, meeting his eye.

“Yes.” She says. “I got lucky”

But she doesn’t sound like someone who got lucky. She sounds sad. Her face is blank, controlled. Midoriya’s only known her a day and he knows there’s something off about that blank look. It’s not quite like the look she had just after the exercise, the one where her whole face just froze.

It’s similar though and Midoriya starts to think. Think that maybe Bakugou was on to something.

Maybe Dreamer did have a connection to All Might and All for One that he should know about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super excited about the next few chapters! Emotions! Fluff!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys <3


	3. Chapter 3

MIDORIYA

The first day of class ends too soon.

For the next few weeks, Izuku frantically does research on American Heroes in between all the extra training and homework. He picks up a few things here and there. She doesn't like coffee. Not a cat person. He and Ochako had had a giggle fit when they'd seen that.

No wonder she and Aiazawa seemed cold to each other. 

She keeps them busy most of the time, focused on themselves, and even when one of them does get a chance to throw a seemingly harmless question at her, she just dodges them. Laughs. Conveniently forgets to answer. 

“Where do you live in the US?”

“Oh I move around a lot. Where are you from?”

“So… how old are you, exactly?”

“Kaminari, try to focus. Keep your mind on the outcome. Why are you working so hard only to lose drive halfway through?”

“Why’d you shave your head? Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty badass, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman with a shaved head before.”

“Well I’ve never seen a woman with all black eyes before.” Dreamer grins, as they walk to a combat arena, the sun gleaming off her copper skin. “Is that unique to you or do others in your family have a similar physical manifestations?”

Midoriya chews on his lip as they walk, thinking. It’s clear they’re going to have to come at this from a different angle if they want any real answers. Not every single detail about her life can have weighty emotional repercussions. 

For the first few days, Dreamer watches them all with open fascination, moving among them during their regular classes with a combination of grave attentiveness and enthusiasm. “Can it be just the intention to answer or does it have to be spoken?", "Wait, you’re invisible _at all times_?", "Are the grenades purely aesthetic or do they serve a function?", "You can make _anything?_”

Then come the classes and combat scenarios she has designed herself. These are more aligned for developing teamwork. For easy cooperation and communication even in stressful circumstances. And…

Well.

They aren’t very good at it.

Class A has always been skilled, always been strong. And the bonds forged through terror and adversities are powerful. They may not always work _well _together, but they trust each other, respect each other. Know how to get things done.

For Dreamer though, that isn’t enough. She pokes and prods and asks difficult questions until she gets an honest answer.

“Todoroki, you’re not frustrated about Kirishma missing the timer. What’s actually bothering you?”

Todoroki frowns, exhaling sharply through flared nostrils but says nothing.

“What is it?” She asks stepping closer, her voice going low and soothing. Most of the class is preoccupied with hand-to-hand drills but there’s still enough of an audience that Todoroki balks at saying anything. “What did he do that’s got you so agitated?” Her eyes are searching and glazed slightly in the way that she gets when she’s digging deep into someone’s emotions.

Todoroki glances away, fists balling and shakes his head silently.

She places a hand on his tense shoulders. “It’s not dumb. Whatever you’re thinking—whatever you’re feeling. It’s not dumb, ok? You’re not crazy. Kirishima’s your friend and he deserves to know.” She squeezes gently. “Come on. It’s—”

“He ate my leftovers.”

Midoriya’s mouth drops open, Kacchan's fist catches his chin. That’s just—that can’t be it— "Pay attention, dipshit" Bakugou hisses but Midoriya can tell he's listening too, eye flickering over to his best friend.

Someone snickers. Kaminari maybe. This is not the first time one of them has lost their lunch in the communal kitchen.

Kirishima though, heartfelt as he is, takes it seriously, his eyes widen, shock followed quickly by guilt flashing across his face. He opens his mouth but Todoroki uncharacteristically rushes on.

“I know it’s not a big deal. I _know _it’s not. I—I don’t.” His fists are clenching and unclenching at his side, eyes fiercely trained on the ground somewhere near Kiri’s boots. “I don’t know why it bothered me so much. I …”

Midoriya expects Dreamer to pat him on the back and tell him it’s all right, not to worry about it. No need to talk about it here.

Instead she says, “Yes you do.” quietly. Firmly.

Todoroki’s gaze shoots to hers, shock and confusion and a little betrayal filtering through his blue and grey eyes. He swallows painfully, glances away again.

She waits.

It’s hard for Todoroki to express himself at the best of times, much less with half the class watching. But Dreamer doesn’t let up. Just watches him with those depthless tan eyes.

“It’s.” He gestures vaguely. “My.” He stops again, takes a deep shaky breath. And then all of a sudden, his shoulders drop slightly from where they were raised protectively about his head. He sighs. “My mother cooked over the weekend.” He says finally, resigned. “They were from her.”

Kirishima blanches. “Dude, dude I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I wasn’t even paying attention, I’m _so sorry_, I should have been more careful." He steps closer, reaches out his hand like his apology is in his palm and he wants Todoroki to take it. Midoriya’s heart clenches at the site. "I''m… Fuck, I’m so sorry, man.”

Todoroki shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ matter,” Kirishima says fiercely, “And it’ll never happen again, ok? I’ll pay more attention to where my grimy mits are grabbing food from in the future.” His face twists in a self-deprecating smirk. His voice lowers. “I’m really am sorry, man.” He closes the gap and tentatively clasps Todoroki’s shoulder and Todoroki straightens a little. Nods.

Red and white hair gets tousled as Todoroki shakes himself. The tension has bled out of his shoulders. He looks… Honestly, he looks more relaxed than Midoriya has seen him in a _while_.

“Thank you,” Dreamer says quietly and Midoriya’s eyes jump to her. For a second, he’d almost forgotten she was there. Facilitating the whole exchange.

She’s looking at Todoroki. “I know that wasn’t easy. Thank you for being honest.”

She mummers, “You two can take a break.” Then raises her chin, “The rest of you, back to work.” Voice authoritative once again and everyone shuffles back into position with his or her partners.

The rest of the week is absolutely _packed_ with achingly similar situations. Not all as public, not all as tense, but many just as surprising, just as necessary and just as soothing. It’s like she is steadily applying a balm to festering injuries, old and new. Cracks and hurts and insecurities they didn’t even know they had.

“Tsu,” Dreamer says quietly one day, pulling the other woman aside after a particularly heated brainstorming session. “Don’t be afraid to voice your opinion in there, ok? You have brilliant insights and your classmates respect you. Speak up. It’ll be good for you and for them.”

Communication. Talking candidly and openly about their emotions. _Addressing_ them… that has never been one of Class A’s strong suits. Never been a priority for them the way it is now because _every grade_ is dependent on how well they can articulate their feelings.

“Bakugou.” Dreamer sighs, rubbing at her temples and interrupting a rather violent tirade of insults aimed at Kaminari. “Come here, please.”

“Fucking what.” He growls stomping over to her.

The rest of the class is still engaged in a pretty basic, almost childish game of partner Keep Away, but Midoriya can’t help sneaking glances at them while dodging blows.

For a long moment, there’s silence from their corner and Midoriya is afraid he’s missed what she’s saying in the shouts and grunts of people exchanging blows. When he glances over though, he sees Dreamer holding Bakugou’s gaze with the closest thing he's seen to anger on her face.

Her lips are pressed together and her hands are clenched. Very different than how she’d been just moments before. There must be something in Bakugou's emotions that she doesn’t like. Or maybe he said something Midoriya missed.

Finally, so quietly Midoriya almost misses it, she says. “Verbal abuse is not an acceptable response to a misunderstanding, Bakugou. Find a way to express yourself that doesn’t involve cursing out your teammates or you fail this assignment.”

Bakugou’s face contorts dramatically from irritation to rage to sullen silence all in a single heartbeat. He scowls at her for so long and she raises a brow at him.

“Yes?” She asks giving him permission to speak.

“They can’t keep up.” He growls out.

She observes him for another long moment before leaning forward slowly, deliberately into his space, and says, “If you’re really the best, the strongest, the smartest… you can _carry_ them, Bakugou.” There’s steel in her eyes, deep and piercing “A real Hero doesn’t tear people down. He builds them up.”

Bakugou gets quiet then—for a few days actually.

It’s terrifying.

It’s terrifying because Midoriya has an aching hope in his chest that builds and builds and he thinks that maybe something someone has said has finally gotten through to Bakugou. And that terrible, wonderful hope is spurred on by the fact that Bakugou still screams and scowls and stomps around like the pavement was laid especially for him but the sting is gone from most of it.

Well maybe not _gone_, gone.

He still scoffs and smirks his manic, predatory smirk anytime they spare together and Midoriya still fears for his life and limbs. It’s just… less vicious somehow.

Bakugou has always dolled out criticisms like they were side dishes to every meal only now the comments that are constructive outweigh the mindless screaming by a noticeable margin.

Midoriya’s mouth drops open one day when he sees Kacchan sigh, rub his temples, grumble and then _calmly_ reach over and correct one of Kirishima’s homework mistakes—without physical violence. Without yelling, without even _one _curse.

Although he does follow it up with, “Fix this, Shitty hair.” So it’s almost normal.

Midoriya isn’t the only one who notices these subtle changes. Right after the homework incident, Uraraka's wide eyes meet his own and she makes a face at him and they both cover their mouths, trying not to laugh in pure shock, in relief, in disbelief. Midoriya isn’t sure.

Everyday is a different emotional hurdle. Everyday the class drags their feet through a thin layer of snow and up the short steps of the dorm and tumbles into undignified heaps in the common room.

Midoriya glances around at all of them while peeling away layers of coats and jackets. The crowded common room is stifling, the humid smell of bodies damp from the cold and sweat. Everyone’s drained. Even Bakugou, face down on the couch, just swats halfheartedly at Kirishima when the redhead drapes himself over Bakugou’s legs.

Despite the ache in his muscles and the soreness in his eyes, or maybe because of it, Midoriya feels an undercurrent of pure satisfaction thrumming under his skin as he claims his own spot on the plush couches.

Three weeks. It had taken three weeks but finally, today was the first time they had all received a passing grade on one of Dreamer’s assignments.

They’d worked together. Shared some things. Were forced to rely on their quietest classmates to carry the leadership roles. And somehow, they’d done well.

Much better, Dreamer had said with a happy smile.

“That was…” Uraraka drops down into the seat beside him and Midoriya’s eyes widen and quickly look at the floor and not at the way sweat makes her t-shirt cling to the lean curves of her body. She’s always been distracting, with her smiles and her easy, friendly temperament and her impressive quirk. And now--especially after her growth spurt last year. That didn’t help _at all_. She’d been embarrassed and blushed constantly when they’d finally noticed that she was taller than him but Izuku secretly loves it.

Uraraka is stronger this way. Better able to handle and use her quirk. Apparently, that’s what removing gravity from the body so often leads to, lankier build and lighter bones. Not to mention her new and impressive reach in hand-to-hand combat. And.

And. Well. Her… _other_ assets.

Why? Why couldn’t she be awful? Why did she have to be so wonderful and happy and strong _and_ attractive? It's _distracting_. 

“Yeah.” He mumbles, chancing a glance at her pleased, tired expression. “We finally did it.” He grins and she grins back.

“She’s really making us better, huh?” Uraraka shifts lower in her seat with a sigh. “Never would have known how much better things could get. And it’s only the first month!” She frowns. “Only… I wish she’d talk to us more.” She glances at Midoriya. “You know, let us get to know her.” She frowns. “We’ve all been opening up so much, I guess I just… I guess I just thought she would join in a little. It feels weird that she knows so much about us now but we still don’t know _anything_ about her.”

Midoriya faces forward, eyes lost in the middle distance. “I’ve been thinking about that too… there are quite a few options and possible scenarios that might prove more successful for obtaining personal information from her and I think the most likely is in a small group setting where she can feel more comfortable sharing—though it’s not really fair because she makes us talk in front of the rest of the class all the time and never really lets up until we solve whatever personal dilemma—though it’s not really a dilemma we’re dealing with here it’s more—”

“You’re right!” Uraraka gasps, sitting up. “We just need to get her in a more intimate setting, something outside of class, so she feels more comfortable. And remember what she said about her quirk? Getting emotional is hard for her so she needs an especially safe setting. Maybe here at the dorms… just a few of us… maybe a movie.” She frowns, already deep in though and Midoriya gawks.

“I didn’t… but that’s… perfect actually. You’re brilliant, Uraraka!” He beams at her and she grins back.

Strategies are so much easier when you have a partner in crime.

* * *

CORINA

Uraraka has been watching her.

With her eyes, Cori focuses on lifting the heavily laden bar over her head for another few reps, while her senses pinpoint exactly what the mixture of feelings rolling off Uraraka are. There’s determination, yes that’s normal… maybe a little fear. Calculation too. What is that girl up to?

Over the past few weeks, Dreamer has tried not to single anyone out. Tried not to have favorites. Tried to distribute the emotional prodding evenly among the twenty students.

That studious plan is promptly wrecked by a persistently cheerful disposition. Cori can’t help it! Happy people are like a drug to her. They’re just so easy to be around.

Not only that, Uraraka is _persistent_. Cori can’t help but respect the enthusiasm, hot and furious, that pours from the girl whenever something challenges her. Uraraka is one of those rare people who thrive on defeat. If she doesn’t get something right the first time, she works at it, steadily, patiently, until the move is perfect. That’s it. No whining, just work.

That’s why, on day three of class when Uraraka corners Cori to ask if she can tutor her specifically in hand-to-hand combat, Cori is surprised.

“Why?” She asks, leaning forward in her squeaky office chair. “You’re already quite strong in that area.”

Uraraka takes a deep breath, undaunted by the other teachers milling about in this godforsaken open-floor-plan office space that doesn’t give even the illusion of privacy. Most days, Cori has to hide in the bathroom just to get a few minutes of breathing room.

“Not strong enough. You beat me easy.” Her eyes don’t hold bitterness like Bakugou’s usually do when referring to their initial battle. There’s conviction there instead. A need Cori doesn’t fully understand just yet. “I want to do better.”

Cori cocks her head, probing. Then it hits her with an old familiar longing. “You want to be more than what people assume when they see you.” She says and Uraraka visibly startles. “You want to be a powerhouse, someone who rescues and defeats in equal measure. You,” Cori grins and leans forward. “Want people to look at that pretty face and see a Hero. Not a _rescue_ Hero. A Hero.”

Uraraka slumps in her seat. Like the weight of those desires, heavy and ever present, has been alleviated. Carried on two pairs of shoulders instead of one. “That’s exactly it.” She breathes. “People see me and assume I’m this sweet, gentle, perfect—” She gets frustrated, sits up and pulls at her hair. “But I’m strong! I want people to see _that_. To know that it’s possible to be both. To rescue and kickass!”

“Indeed it is.” Cori says with a knowing smile. “I train in the evenings after work, would you like to join me?”

At first it was just Uraraka. Then Ashido, then Tsuyu and Yaoyorozu and Jirou and finally Haukuru joined and Cori couldn’t find the heart to say no. Gym time was usually her solitary, re-charge-from-work-and-emotions time but Cori finds she actually doesn’t mind with these guys. It’s soothing with just her and the girls. Women really. Cori shakes her head with a cagey twist to her mouth. She still doesn’t see herself as an adult sometimes so it’s hard to think of these students as such. Doesn’t stop them from being badass chicks though.

Even with the clang of heavy metal and grunts of exertion, Cori feels relaxed. She sits up, glances around the room, wiping sweat from her head with a damp cloth, running a hand over her stubbly scalp a few more times than necessary. It’s still weird not having hair. Cori never thought she’d miss it for it’s sweat-soaking-up properties but there you go.

A spike in adrenaline has Dreamer’s eye jumping to the side.

“Dreamer-san?” Uraraka is super excited about something. Tsuyu is trailing after her. “I know you probably have things to do but you’ve been so nice and helping us after class and everything so we thought we’d, uhm, invite you back to the dorm for dinner? If you want?” Uraraka’s eyes are pleading and hopeful and something else Cori can’t quite pick out under all the excitement.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal! Just the six of us. Most of the rest of the class went out tonight, anyway.” Uraraka rushes on, blushes and rubs at the back of her head.

Cori hesitates. That sounds… nice, actually. Part of her really wants to go be normal and socialize for a bit. It’s not like she has a lot of friends here. The other, more logical, part of her brain proclaims loudly and firmly that this would change things between Cori and these people, who could be friends, but are definitely still her students. Then she thinks about what Midoriya had said to her earlier.

_“Umm, Dreamer-san? I have a few questions.”_

_ She grins, turning her attention from All Might’s battle simulation, “Of course you do.” _

_Midoriya shuffles his feet then forces himself to meet her eye. “How can you expect us to be honest with each other when you wont do the same?”_

_Dreamer’s eyes widen, more than a little blind-sided, the smile dripping from her face like sweat in heat. Oh. Dreamer carefully schools her expression. She’s been waiting for this, actually. Though this is a new angle: a guilt trip. Students don’t usually try that. _

_“The thing is,” Midoriya goes on hesitantly. “You talk about trust and sharing all the time. Your influence has demonstrably had an effect on our communication and teamwork in just a few weeks. And yet… you, you just—”_

_“Deflect anytime you ask me a personal question?” Dreamer quirks a sardonic brow at him, then sighs. “The thing is, Midoriya, I’m a teacher and I don’t have to tell you anything. And frankly, I don’t want to.” She shrugs, trying to make him understand by being candid. “Talking about my past sucks, dude. I deflect because the alternative is me going catatonic or puking all over the floor.” She grimaces, readjusts, puts her back to the wall and crosses her arms. “It’s just how it is with my quirk.” _

_Midoriya takes a second to process all this. “So you can’t talk about anything that upsets you?”_

_“Well, it’s not—it’s.” She frowns slightly, looks down. “It’s more like… bringing up memories that have strong emotions attached to them can be dangerous for me. I can get. Overwhelmed. Trapped in the swell of emotions. It doesn’t happen often anymore but.” She remembers the smell of burning rubber, the acrid tang of sweat and human bodies. She shrugs again. “I guess I’m always careful.”_

_Izuku stares at her, curiosity and pity welling in his stomach. She expects that’s the end of it. Poor girl. Can’t talk about her past. Must be real tragic. _

_“What about something simple, like your age?” He asks and Dreamer barks out a startled laugh._

_“Well, fuck, ok you got me there.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t answer that question because people get weird and incredulous and ask more questions when they find out how young I am. It’s just easier to say nothing.”_

_“If you tell me, I won’t ask anything else for the rest of the day.” Midoriya offers, with big pleading green eyes. Dreamer scoffs._

_“Yes you will,” She says with a fond little twist to her mouth. “You’ll have another question ready in twenty minutes flat.”_

_He thinks about this for a minute. Opens his mouth to respond. _

_“Why does it matter to you anyway?” She says cocking her head to the side. He doesn’t seem particularly invested in her answer. _

_“I just…” He pauses, guilt and determination warring for dominance in his eyes. “I just want to know_ something _about you.” He says and she can feel the frustration, the stress coming off him to attenuate the accuracy of that statement. _

_Realization strikes her like lightening and Dreamer pauses. She’s freaking him out. Not answering his questions. Not telling them anything about her, it scares him. Makes him anxious. _

_Her face softens. “I’m twenty-two.” She says quietly and his eyes widen._

_Sharing can be good sometimes,_ a small traitorous voice in her head says. And she blinks back to the present.

“Umm, yeah, ok.” Cori hears herself saying. God she’s so stupid. “That, uh, that sounds really nice.”

“Great!” Uraraka does an adorable little hop. “Come over in an hour and we’ll be ready.”

“Anything I can bring? There’s a store near campus that—”

“Nope! We’ve got everything.” Uraraka says with a beaming smile and a spike of anxiety that instantly has Cori on alert.

She squints but other than that keeps her face neutral. “Ok… well, see you in a bit then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: 29 march 2020
> 
> So I'm a dingus and totally forgot to through Jirou's name in here the first time around. Fixed now!
> 
> Next chapter will be up in the next few days since I'm trapped at home for the foreseeable future :)
> 
> Also, thanks for all the comments guys, they really make my day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotional stuff here folks
> 
> *Spot the Forces Awakens reference!*

URARAKA

The dorm smells amazing. Ochako's mouth starts watering immediately as she steps out of the shower, puts on comfy clothes and heads towards the kitchen. Since Ocha had been responsible for getting Dreamer here, Deku had offered to handle the cooking and of course, he had recruited Bakugou.

Ochako can hear them as she gets closer.

"...No.." 

"This?"

"NO"

"Which one--"

"The one I'm POINTING TO!"

"Woah!" She ducks under a swinging, sizzling pan and into the kitchen. "Smells amazing guys!"

"Thanks!" Deku beams.

"Fuck you, she's talking to me." Bakugou steps forward with a smirk and grabs whatever implement he'd needed from Deku's hand.

"I helped!"

"Cutting up random shit does not count as cooking." He tosses over his shoulder, back at the stove and stirring, though Ochako can hear the slight smile in his voice.

Deku plants his fists on his hips. "Admit it, I'm getting better."

Bakugou actually barks out a laugh, glancing back "'Course you're better. You had the culinary skills of a fucking _ rabbit _when we first started."

Deku opens his mouth to protest but Ochako interrupts him.

"You really did, sweetie." Ochako hopes the endearment will lessen the blow and make him laugh and she's not disappointed. Deku blushes and splutters and mutters something like 'I wasn't _ that _ bad' while Bakugou chuckles over the spicy chicken dish they've prepared. 

"Listen, Cheeks" He says seriously, suddenly, turning off the stove for a moment and setting the pan aside before turning his fierce red eyes on Ochako. "When you talk to her tonight, see if you can find out how she met All Might."

"That was on my list, actually. Though I'm not sure we'll get there tonight..." Ochako squints at him. "Why do you want to know?"

He grunts, shooting a glance at Deku. "It's important," They share a heated look. Nothing out of the ordinary there, these two almost always have beef, but especially when it comes to All Might. For his part, Deku just stares Bakugou down, a contemplative look on his face.

Ochako takes a deep breath. "Alright, I'll see what I can do, but i'm not gonna pressure her. Tonight is about make her feel _ safe. _" She blinks, blushing a little. "And getting information."

Dreamer had practically challenged them to use all the resources they had at their disposal to learn more about her. So here they are.

"That's right." Bakugou says with a firm nod, "So do the feel good bounding shit, and then ask."

"I will, Bakugou." Ochako sighs as he starts making final additions to the meal. "But it's--"

"Yeah, I fucking know it takes time and patience or whatever. I'm not saying _ rush her _, I'm just saying don't pussy out of asking the hard questions." He hits her with his Serious eyes and Ochako knows he understands how delicate this situation is which is why he hasn't marched up to her already and started demanding answers. No matter how much better he's gotten at expressing himself over the years, it still isn't his strongest suit and he is trusting Ochako to go in his stead.

"Okey," She says slowly, a small, crooked smile turning up her lips. "You can count on me, Bakugou."

He snorts, a confident, content look in his eye. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

CORINA

"Wait, so you are going to go hang out with your students... who you've already seen for approximately twelve hours today and also see _ everyday _ , oh! and also they're curious as fuck and are absolutely going to hound you with questions, and you're _ willing _ subjecting yourself to that, but you won't go out to the _ bar with me _? I'm I getting that right?"

"Nemuri," Cori can't help but laugh a little helplessly as she wanders about her room getting ready. "They offered me free food. I wasn't about to say no to that." Cori half jokes as she rubs lotion into the dry skin of her arms, moisture from her recent shower still clinging to her skin. The new suit is awesome but she'll have to ask the support department about the chaffing. Midnight leans casually against her doorway, managing to look both sexy and approachable in her soft, well fitted winter garb. "Besides, they may be curious but they're not _ new _, ya know? Meeting new people is the last thing I wanna do after a long day."

Midnight gives her a contemplative look. "So do you never go out then? What if it was a small, private place?"

Cori nod-shrugs while pulling on a pair of socks, "That would certainly be better. And I_ do _go out sometimes. If I have to. But that usually means "muting" my quirk or shutting it off completely, so I don't get overwhelmed, and that's really not ideal, so." She shrugs again as she stands. "I really don't mind, honestly. Nightlife has never been my thing." She offers Midnight a grin and the woman returns it. 

"Well maybe that's because you've never been able to do it _ right. _" The older woman says, eyes thoughtful in a way that betrays the casual smirk on her lips. "I'll think on this and get back to you." She says shoving off the door and walking away.

"What? No this isn't an assignment!" Cori calls after, sticking her head out the door, mostly joking but also a little terrified. 

Midnight just laughs and looks over her shoulder to wink, "Have fun with the kiddo's, babe." Then saunters off down the hall to presumably go have a fun night on the town with her other sophisticated, probably normal, lady friends. 

Cori huffs something that almost a laugh and almost a sigh. The teachers dorms are nice. Communal in a way thats comforting, not stifling. A loud gurgle from her stomach angrily reminds Cori why she was so keen to get over to 3-A's dorm tonight anyway and Cori quickly puts on a long sleave and heads out into the fine february snowfall. 

* * *

MIDORIYA

"How's the sound, Midoriya?" 

Momo's voice doesn't even crackle as it comes through the expertly designed mini speakers of the woman herself. Midoriya presses on a button on the panel in front of him, looking at the screen that shows the girls milling around the living room and kitchen. "Perfect, actually. How many mikes did you manage to plant?" he asks, a little awe in his voice. He and Uraraka had brought Momo in on the plan _ yesterday _, and because the school already had its own surveillance equipment in place she would have had to be super careful and speed--"Oh you recruited Tooru." He answers his own question which draws a smile from the Momo on screen as she helps Jirou set up the music. 

"That's right," She answers at a much lower tone, almost a whisper. "Still picking this up?" 

"Yep. You guys really outdid your--"

"Yeah, yeah just make sure you actually get information out of her that's worth listening too." Bakugou cuts him off as he settles into the seat next to him and Midoriya shoots him a look, then rolls his eyes with a little snort when Jirou mutters a scathing, "Obviously."

"Who wants to bet that Bakugou's mike gets muted within the first ten minutes?" Kaminari asks with a shit eating grin that gets more than a few laughs and one angry glare from the boys assembled in Shouji's room.

"Well we'll all be muted once Dreamer arrives." Midoriya clarifies, fidgeting nervously. Once he and Uraraka had started putting their plan into motion most of the class had ended up getting involved and then it felt a little more wrong to be spying on her this way but it had been Momo of all people that had pointed out that Dreamer had encouraged them to use "unconventional means" to investigate her background if they were curious and well... They are definitely curious and this method is far from conventional. 

It still leaves a sour taste in Midoriya's throat. The whole thing feels sneaky. 

"That's because it is, dipshit." Bakugou had said, rolling his eyes. "That's literally the point."

Iida had surprised Midoriya by adding, "Aizawa was rather adamant last week that we show more initiative in covert intelligence operations." Though he was sweating a lot and looked as nauseous as Izuku about the whole thing. "It's almost a class assignment at this point."

So here they were, in the room farthest from the communal kitchen so as to avoid Dreamer picking up on their emotions, crowded around the various screens and camera angles. Notepads and pencils at the ready to jot down their teacher's facial tics and body language in response to the predicussed questions. With twenty eyes on her, Midoriya was confident they'd learn _ something _, and while a part of him still felt a little guilty about their tactics, the fact that Dreamer had already agreed to be under constant surveillance as a caveat to living in the dorms, set him at ease just a little bit. 

That doesn't stop Midoriya's knee from bouncing continuously when a knock to the main lobby door sounds over the speaker system. 

"All mikes muted on our end." He mutters to the room of boys who all nod in agreement. 

Dreamer walks in, smiles, jokes around, nods appreciatively to the little spots of individuality in the living room and kitchen, laughs when the reason behind the dent in the kitchen ceiling is revealed and Uraraka blushes. Everything is going smoothly. Midoriya's knee is still bouncing. There are literally _ thousands _ of ways the could go wrong, if one of the girls loses their cool, if one of the mikes makes a funny noise, if--

"Midoriya," Todoroki's quiet voice cuts through the noise in his head and Midoriya's eyes immediately jump to his mismatched friends. "Take a deep breath." He does. "And focus." He lets it out in a little frustrated huff and Todoroki leans forward, eyes calm and serious. "Worrying now is only going to hinder our operation." Midoriya can't argue with that, now can he? He takes another fortifying breath and nods. Todoroki nods back and sits up to refocus on the video feed.

Dreamer and their female classmates are eating casually, talking, they ask a few questions about food in America which she seems happy to answer, even going so far as to tell them her favorite thing to eat is actually a Mexican dish called tamales "with lots of salsa".

"My mom and I lived in a rural area in the southern part of the country, and there's nothing quite like mom's cooking." She says with a happy, maybe a little wistful smile.

"Yeah I know what you mean, since we came to live in the dorms, I didn't realize how much I was going to miss my parents cooking... Well mostly my dad." Tsu says thoughtfully. "My mom can't cook _ at all _." She says it with such a strait face that even some of the boys frantically taking notes snort with laughter.

"So do you still get to eat your mom's cooking often?" Jirou asks casually taking a bite.

"No." Dreamer answers just as casually, "Though I do make a point to go south and get outta the big cities at least twice a year." Everyone nods politely but it's obvious their waiting for a little more and Dreamer sighs, rolling her eyes. "I don't have contact with either of my parents and yes I miss my mom's cooking. Happy?" 

"Very!" Uraraka chirps with a big smile, as she pushes the rice bowl closer to Dreamers plate "For that you get an extra serving." 

Dreamer throws her head back and laughs, grabbing the bowl, "Is that how this works, then? The food isn't really free after all."

"Think of it more as incentive. No stick, just carrots." Jirou clarifies with a smirk.

"I feel like a science experiment." She gumbles through a mouth full of food and a small smile. 

"Well, you did tell us to be unconventional." Momo says with her own huge serving of food. "Food has always been an excellent motivator for _ me _." She adds with a little blush and they all laugh. 

Midoriya shifts a little in his seat, excited more than nervous now. "They're doing great." He mumbles with a grin and Bakugou snorts. 

"'Course they are. They're not fuckin amatures." 

Midoriya's grin widens.

On screen, the women continue to talk and eat, eventually spralling on the living room couches. They learn that Dreamer likes all kinds of music, cut her hair because a villain with an acidic quirk had almost melted her helmet into her skull (ouch, that explained the scars on the side of her head), and that she'd dated only one person before and that they were also a pro.

"Oh office romance? Did you meet on the job? Did they save you, did you save them? Details!" Mina crowds into Dreamer space but the other woman just laughs, weakly kicking Mina away and reclining into the couch with her knees drawn up.

"Yeah we met at work and I just, I don't know, I was super into her right away but she didn't really like me at all." Dreamer smiles as she recalls. "I won't tell you her name, but she kicks ass, man. She's so strong. Things didn't really work out between us but we still get along. I even worked a case with her last year." She shrugs as if this isn't the most personal information she's ever revealed in one sitting.

"Well that's wonderful that you both can be so mature about it." Momo says and Dreamer smirks.

"Well we can now." She chuckles, "It was a little rough there for a while... you'd think being able to read your girlfriends emotions would help with the whole communication thing but by the end it just seemed to piss her off." 

Midoriya eyes frantically search her expression for any indication that she's hiding something but all he really sees is the humour and resignation that match her tone. Maybe a little residual hurt mixed in there but that's really not unexpected for the subject matter. Dreamer says she's an open book and the more Midoriya observes her the more he thinks that might be true. As long as her words continue to match up with her expressions, they might actually learn a lot here. 

Midoriya's knee threatens to start bouncing again when the subject changes slightly to other Pro Heroes she knows.

"You had already met All Might before you came to work here, right?"

She hesitates for just a second before saying, "Yeah we met in America." 

"Oh it had to have been a few years ago then, were you already a Pro?"

Dreamer squirms a little in her seat, "Umm no, actually, I was still pretty young. All Might uhh." she cracks her neck. A nervous tick Midoriya has noticed before. "Rescued me. And a bunch of other people. But I remembered him and found his dreams later so,"

Her speech patterns often devolve like this when she's trying to skirt around a topic. 

"So as a kid you were rescued by All Might and then were able to find him again through his dreams... " There's no judgment in Mina's voice but the question is obvious. Minors often used their quirks accidentally and there were other exceptions, but it was generally illegal in most countries to use your quirk on someone without some kind of license and consent. Not to mention the kind of power, at such a young age, she would have implemented to accomplish it. 

Dreamer shuffles her legs, sitting up. "Yeah my mom was kind of a... what's the word.. a hippy? She didn't believe in quirk suppression or standardized quirk education, so she just kind let me run wild." 

Keeps referring to her mother in past tense.

"Woah." Mina's jaw is hanging open. "Dude, that's so illegal."

Dreamer grimaces and nods, "I know. Once All Might found out, things changed though. No more unsupervised Dream hopping. I worked with some specialists who helped me understand emotions better and ended up graduating early and getting my license." She grins. "I owe it all to Toshi. Without him I don't know if I ever really would have learned how to control my quirk."

Wow there was so much to unpack with that, Midoriya has so many questions. Did All Might act as a advisor for her as a child? What happened to her mother? How early did she get her license? His knee starts bouncing again. 

"So is that why you.. I mean, do you mind if I ask what happened to your mom?" Mina is earnest but more gentle than usual. 

Dreamer swallows. "She's not, uhh. She." Dreamer takes a deep breath. "I loved her but she was also a little unstable. I don't really want to say more."

"That's ok," Mina says, reaching out and patting Dreamers knee, "We appreciate that you're talking at all."

"It's nice that you're spending time with us as a person, not a pro." Tsu croaks and Dreamers eyes seem to well up slightly before she quickly blinks the moisture away.

"Thanks, Tsu." She says quietly. 

"Sooo ok, tell us something easy, like All Might rescuing you, that must have been crazy!" Mina throws her hands up and smiles but there's something off about Dreamer's smile in return.

"Well," She licks her lips. "Umm I was kidnapped, actually" 

Everyone freezes, their eyes going wide. Tsu's mouth drops open and Uraraka's hands ball into fists. At Midoriya's side, Bakugou's body stiffens automatically. 

Dreamers brow wrinkles slightly, "It's alright, All Might came... and..." Suddenly her expression blanks out, the way it does when she's focused on someone else's mind. Then her tawny eyes go impossibly wide and without warning, she leans over the side of the couch and vomits directly onto the carpet. 

"AH!" The girls nearest yelp and jump out of range. 

Mina who's closest puts a hand on Dreamer's shoulder, "Sensei? What's wrong--"

Dreamer gasps in a few breaths and her eyes flutter closed and this would seem like a normal reaction to nausea if Midoriya didn't also notice how her body goes intensely still, like she's listening for something.

"Oh no." He whispers right before her eyes snap open and she twists her body over the back of the couch, landing in a crouch. The assembled women exclaim and call out to her again but Dreamer ignores them in favor of racing off down the hallway. Directly towards Shouji's room. 

* * *

BAKUGOU

Fuck

The image is imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Seared into his mind like a brand. 

"_ Kidnapped... All Might came _..." Her words trigger his memories.

All Might, standing between him and All For One. 

_ Protecting _ him. 

As soon as the ugly memory surfaces, Bakugou shoves it away again. That time is over. No need to fucking dwell on it-- 

On the screens in front of him, Dreamer goes rigid. Then she pukes. 

"Fuck" Bakugou hisses.

Then she's coming straight for them.

"Fuck. Shit. She _ felt _that!"

"Kacchan?" Deku shoots him a look, panicked and questioning. 

"I, fuck, I-I thought about." The words get lodged in his throat and he has to swallow past them. "I thought about Kamino." He forces himself to meet Deku's eyes. "She must have felt it."

"Quick." Deku moves fast, grabbing Bakugou's arm and hauling him towards the door. The others rise silently, fear and questions in their tense bodies. "We might be able to meet her half way and expl--"

A series of thuds and grunts are heard from the hallway Deku glances back at him with wide eyes before he quickly grits his teeth and opens the door, the others coming in close to see past them.

Dreamer has Round face in a choke-hold while effortlessly tossing Mina off her leg with one powerful shove while Momo tries to reason with her with words. "Please just let us explain!"

Then Dreamer catches sight of the open door. Her eyes widen then dilate like a cat spotting prey when her eyes lock with Bakugou's. There's a trippy moment where she drops Uraraka and takes a step forward and Bakugou can almost _ feel _her do it. Like he's seeing himself through her eyes for a moment. Then she stumbles into the wall and hisses and the feeling evaporates and he's left blinking at a very pissed, very strong pro hero. At least he thinks she's pissed. It's hard to tell with her eyes take up his whole vision like this.

The sweat on his palms beads and Bakugou clenches his fists, crouching slightly, more than ready for a fight. Odds aren't good but they weren't great _ that night _ either--

She pukes again, still leaning against the wall. She's sweating and shaking and Deku reaches out a hand, concern in his every movement but she dodges him with a fluid grace that shouldn't be possible with how shitty she looks and then she's there. Right in front of him panting, sweating.

"You were there." She rasps, eyes darting around his face but not really seeing it. "Kamino Ward."

Then she hisses and clutches her head, glancing around. "You too." She whispers wide-eyed looking at Kirishima. Then her eyes dart to the other four. "Fuck, he never said." She mumbles, swaying on her feet.

"Dreamer! I'm so sorry," Deku starts, taking a step closer, "We didn't mean--"

"Shut up." She cuts him off, wiping at her mouth with a sweaty palm. "I don't want your apology, I want answers. So let's trade." She stands up straight. Bakugou can't tell what story her face is telling because he's facing her back. "One pin equals one answer." She raises both her fists, knees bending slightly in an obvious stance. "One on one." 

Then she sends one sharp, almost manic glance over her shoulder at Bakugou. "And I'm not responsible for any damage done to your dorm."

"You can't be serious. You're _ shaking_! You need to see Recovery Girl!" Someone shouts but Dreamer's stance doesn't waver. 

There's an odd gleam in Deku's eyes, equal parts frustration and determination and maybe even a little pride. Rarely seen but familiar in a way that makes Bakugou's blood sing. "Fine." Deku says finally, green lightning flashing up and down his limbs. 

Before Deku can act, Bakugou decides to trust his instinct and get a hit in. He aims for her legs and she predictably dodges to the side before he even gets his foot raised. Anticipating her reaction to his _ almost _ action, Bakugou dives to the side with her, grabs her arm and pins Dreamer to the wall, a nitroglycerin soaked palm pressed to her throat. She stills for a moment, eyes wide, then a smile curves up the corner of her mouth. 

"Fast." She compliments, "What's your question." Her eyes are impossible to read.

"Why were you puking?" 

She huffs, "Your memories mirror my own. It fucks with my head. Makes my brain think I'm back there, living it again."

"He got you too." Bakugou hears himself whisper as the realization sweeps through him. Cold and certain and horrifying. "All For One."

Dreamer shoves him off. "One question."

Then Deku is there, close but not touching. "Dreamer--" he starts but doesn't get to finish because she tackles him. They roll around on the for, neither having the upper hand for long, Dreamer has more experience and weight but Deku has more power. He almost has her in a headlock but then she somehow wiggles out of his hold without actually hurting him. It lasts for a few minutes, positions changing so fast even Bakugou has a hard time keeping track. Then Midoriya yelps and Dreamer freezes for a moment, just a moment, and Deku has her pined. 

"Your shoulder--" She starts, looking up at him with concern that he ignores.

"How did All Might save you?" 

Dreamer's eyes widen and her mouth snaps shut.

Deku's grip tightens, "That was how he got his original injury, wasn't it? That first show down with All For One eight years ago. You were there, weren't you?"

Bakugou is certain he's never seen this expression on a human face before but when he sees the anguish in her eyes, he understands it.

Dreamer's eyes clench shut and her jaw grinds as she turns her face to the side. Her face _fractures_. She says nothing. Probably can't. 

Deku gets off her and then pulls her into a sitting position against the wall, propping her up and patting her arms awkwardly. 

"When did you figure that out?" She whispers without opening her eyes.

"Just now." He says back just as quietly. 

Bakugou feels the adrenaline drain out of him all at once and slumps to the floor too. 

Dreamer sighs and opens her eyes, surveying the twenty students slowly lowering themselves to the floor and eyeing her with varying degrees of wariness and concern. "Well that could have gone better." She mumbles, rubbing a hand over her face. "Sorry to freak you guys out. I really wasn't expecting.." She nods her head at Bakugou without actually finishing her sentence and he sneers at her, not really sure why but that just feels like the appropriate response. 

She snorts, dropping her head back to the wall behind her. "I can't believe he didn't tell me. Probably blamed himself, the big idiot."

"Didn't tell you what, exactly?" Someone asks.

"Well I obviously knew in general what happened at Kamino, but he never told me it was one of _ you _ that got taken." Her eyes find Bakugou's and he isn't at all sure what he feels. Maybe nothing. He's too drained for this shit. 

"What exactly _happened_ to you, Dreamer?" Uraraka asks quietly and the woman sighs. Though her lip twitches just a little bit.

"It's a long story, guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok oh my gosh you guys, it's been SO LONG.
> 
> I'm in grad school, I love fanfiction, and it's a real dilemma some days. Though the quarantine has given me time to go back and try to finish a few things :D So hopefully regular updates until this baby is done!
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments and likes, it's so encouraging and I appreciate the heck outta y'all! 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS FOR READING, hope you love it, comments and critiques are always welcome. 
> 
> Looking for a Beta!


End file.
